The Unlikely X-Men: Book One
by Originalnerdling
Summary: This story tells of 15 year old Katherine Pryde who finds her life turned into chaos after a freak "accident" turns her field trip group into a team of super powered mutants. This is a story told from a journal perspective of Kitty's life as a young super hero and all of the twists and turns she's going through with her new team. Book One of Seven; includes: 8 Chapters


**BOOK ONE: **

**THE BEGINNING**

**Chapters:**

A Fairly Normal Day

The Bizarre Truth

Symptoms Starting

Latifundia

With Great Power…

Hazards

A Plan in Motion

Happy Endings

* * *

**"Abandon All Hope..."**

**I**t was a terrible time... The world has almost been destroyed forever, beyond anyone's dreams of repair, though we had all abandoned any form of hope returning to us long, long ago. The skies these days were always lit black and red, with plumes of dry smoke and the scorching glow of new and endless fire. The destruction was massive, the emotional scars were even worse, and it seemed that death was inevitable to even the strongest of the survivors left in hiding. We couldn't run, we couldn't hide for long; all that was possible to do now was to just pray to God that you would be left alive long enough to see the next morning. The world dark and desolate, I would not be surprised if God had turned his back on such chaos and devastation; I have already seen more than my fair share of prayers unanswered by the lost souls taken in this turmoil. Every passing day the destruction ensued, and what was worse...there was _nothing _that _anybody _could do to stop it.

**~2 Years Before~**

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: A FAIRLY NORMAL DAY**

**_From the Journal of: Katherine Pryde March 8, 2010_**

_So, I never really expected the day that would change my whole life could start out so…normally? _

My alarm started blaring its usual annoying tone used to wake me out of even the most peaceful of sleeps. I'd shut it off and typically begin my struggle to get out of the safe, warm bed, in order to get ready for the cold, cruel world outside the home known only as "_school." _The mere thought was like a death sentence, it gave me chills every morning just thinking about it. By the time a teenager reaches high school, nothing seems to matter anymore academic wise, and personally, I believe the whole high school thing is all just one big trap to keep kids (under the age of twenty-one) in a building learning useless or customary traits we either already know, or _never in our whole lives_ needed to know.

I guess I shouldn't complain so much. The entire faculty board decided it might be a good idea to take my entire Ridgeway High School student body on a field trip to one of the most world-renown science centers in all of New York. It was supposed to be some sort of "higher-learning-experience" that would boost our work ethic to strive for the future..._or something like that?_ All in all, this morning torn away from a warm bed and a pleasant dream doesn't seem quite as dreary to me as any other normal day would be. No! Today there will be no Physics, no Trig, no Introduction to Literature- there will be just one whole (like seven hour) day of purely restricted academic freedom!

I switched on the light to let in a little visibility, due to the fact that the sun wasn't even up yet. _Why school had to start so early, was just another reason I believe the whole thing is like a cult for the American government, brainwashing our spirits and making us too exhausted to argue our morals to the system._ Either way, it never took me very long to get ready. I start with the basic teeth brushing or the usual scrunching of my massively thick forest of curly brown hair. I think finally after fifteen years, I had come up with the perfect method of fixing my hair both easily and effectively.By the time I'd gotten just a little bit of make-up on to cover the look of "tired" written all over my face, the sun had miraculously snuck itself into the sky, and like the timed call of a rooster, a shrill voice echoed throughout the whole house-

**"Katherine Ann Pryde! Samuel Grayson Pryde! You both get down here right now or you're going to be late!" **

_Honestly, my mother could use a suicide bomber's full name to get him to come out of a building and surrender himself over to the police. _

Sam was my younger cousin, staying with us while his mom was off doing things that my mother won't talk about with us. Truth be told, my Aunt Cynthia was a total bum, not to mention a bit of a gambler; but, Sam's mother is my mother's sister and as such, Mom took full responsibility for Sam while his mother has been _Lord-only-knows-where_ the past 13 years. Sam has practically been living with me and my mother since we were crawling around on the floor, so I think of him like the annoying little brother I never asked for. Obviously, he thought so too because he acted the part perfectly. Never once did Sam go out of his way to make the mornings easy for any of us. He had to be forcefully yanked out of bed nearly every day and yelled at with empty threats of being grounded just to get ready for school. _Me,_ on the other hand, I did _NOT _gain any form of amusement from aggravating my mother to the point of witnessing her blind fury; so every morning I would just decide to respond with my innocent reply of,**_"Coming Mom!"_**

Afterwards, I got dressed in some cute shirt that I pulled blindly out of the closet and slipped on a plain pair of jeans; I took one last check in the mirror just to get the full effect of how I would be presenting myself to my peers for the next seven hours. I found it easiest to form a checklist to make sure everything was taken care of:

* Long Brunette curls, un-frizzy for the next hour or two, _check!_

_*_ A little make-up and eyeliner to make my Hazel eyes stand out and my face not look like a zombie, _check!_

_* _I'm wearing shoes for once..._so, check_!

Truth be told, I was pretty bland. I sort of had a face that just sunk into a crowd and had nothing special whatsoever to it. I wasn't ugly, but then again I wasn't completely drop-dead gorgeous like some of the more "popular girls" at my school. _Not that anyone has told me otherwise at least._ I didn't really get how people would just openly swoon over the cool girls and rave about their looks, when to be fair, they all looked the exact same, aside from mixed-matched colors of hair or tan tones. High school may not be some huge conspiracy, but was one heck of a mystery, that much was sure. With that in mind, I found myself a little more unique every day, and left my room with a yawn and a satisfactory grin.

Downstairs, Sam was half awake, his head stuck in a bowl of cereal while Mom was trying desperately to find her car keys. After the divorce, Mom has had a pretty big knack for losing stuff. Dad lived back in Deerfield, Illinois, which is where we moved from about two years ago. We moved to New York because Mom had gotten herself a brand new job in her big business, and Dad was always so busy with his own work that we never saw much of him during the week anyhow; Sam and I went with Mom and see Dad around for holidays and stuff if he remembers to stop by every now and again. He forgets dates, Mom forgets objects-aside from the fact they are in one of those awkward "friends who used to be married" relationships, they pretty much have it made for each other.

Other than Sam's milk-drown snoring, the kitchen was quiet and empty. On a big calendar in the middle of the kitchen, Spring Break was circled in red sharpie, but that wasn't for another two weeks and this thrilling expedition of a field trip for me, and a wrestling tournament scheduled for Sam next week. The lucky brat gets to be out of school for a whole week because of it too; it is a really big deal for the school as well.

**"Katherine, Sam, have either of you seen my keys? I swear I just had them a minute ago!?" **Mom huffed tiredly.

**"Did you check the fridge?" **Sam half answered as he lifted his tired head off of the table.

She scoffed, **"Why would they even be in the-" **she stopped as she opened the door and slipped something out quietly before turning and stating, **"We're leaving in five minutes...be ready you two."**

**"You're losing it Mom!" **Sam shouted back at her.

I flicked a piece of cereal at his forehead and snickered, **"She might remember where she put stuff if she didn't have to drag your sorry butt out of bed every morning. How old are you again?"**

He proceeded to show me a mouthful of chewed up cereal before bolting out of the kitchen and jumping into the car Dukes of Hazard style.

**"Oh...it is going to be a long day..."**

* * *

Mom drove us to school, but we had to leave home super early, not only to beat the rush of New York City traffic, but also because Sam's middle school classes started _like _half an hour before mine at the high school. I really hated New York, which is weird because most people are absolutely in love with the big city, but I missed the simple life of a common girl from Deerfield. I missed seeing my old neighbors and my friends, the calm traffic and friendly faces. New York was always moving, and never took a break; people drove like maniacs and the streets were always packed, horns and cussing always being tossed around like unlimited ammo. Oh, and if you'd think that after almost a whole _two years_ of being here that I'd get used to the differences-_No, I did not! _Though, it isn't all bad; I've met a few nice friends that love getting me into trouble, and the school was huge, but moderately friendly, so fitting in under the radar wasn't too hard of a challenge for me.

**"Samuel, did you remember your wrestling gear; you have a game today you know-or a match-or, whatever those things are called? That big tournament of yours is coming up soon too, don't forget it!"** my mother babbled, just as Sam tried to escape the vehicle and flee to the safety of the school.

**"Ugh! Yes Mom!"** he replied, annoyed at the very question. Unfortunately, it was always like this in the mornings. Just the common, back and forth war banter between Mom and the emotional pre-teen, like always. Somehow or another, they would both come up with some new thing to argue randomly about for the enduring _twenty minutes_ it took to get to the drop-off zone of the middle school. I had to just sit there and endure this sort of thing, hoping as usual, that the fights ended eventually. There was no sense tangling myself up in one of their feuds, now was there?

**"Do not get a tone with me, boy! You know what happened last time you forgot your-" **She started before he interrupted her, sighing, **"Yeah, Mom, I forgot my stuff ONE TIME! It won't happen again; you should just chill out, and stay out of my business! Love you-I'll see you after school, bye!" **Sam just saved himself the torment of a lecture once again. Mixing anger and kiss-uppery, was one of his specialties and it always worked on our mother. Still, she would be upset with his new attitude, and his poor grades, and don't even get me started about Sam's weird friends. Mom blamed the schools, but I really didn't care as long as he didn't get arrested or bug me? Still, I was going to have to hear about _this_ for the rest of the car ride to high school. It would have been a whole lot worse, if I'd said anything, so at least today's rant wouldn't be so bad.

**"Can you believe that boy?" **Mom huffed, **"Where did I go wrong? I blame the schools!"**

See... My life was a rut-why did the mornings have to be so predictable!?

* * *

When I finally got to school, I was relieved to see my friend, Tabatha, was there just as equally early as I was. She was that trouble-making friend I'd mentioned earlier. Mikaela and I met on my first day of school last year and she opened the welcome wagon to me, telling me which people were okay to befriend, and which ones would shank me if I spoke to them the wrong way. Every morning, Tabby stands in the same spot by her locker, just slyly texting or listening to an I-Pod while chewing on some orange, citrusy gum that she always carried on her person. Tabatha was one of those girls that you would always find at a party-not wasted or anything, but that would make a lot more sense due to her already drunken, rebellious attitude, and completely fun, go-getter, cool-chick style. She had her own set of rules and only followed the other authoritative figures' rules that she could work with; plus she was practically insane, not to mention loud, but with a fun flair to her that just made her all that loveable. What can I say, that was the style of Tabatha Smith?

Today, she was dressed in some wanna-be 80's look,_ you know_ with the striped green and black leggings, the punk style cut off shirts, and the massive amounts of jewelry on her arms. Surprisingly, Tabby could pull of her own random sense of style, where as I wouldn't even wear those clothes out of my mother's car unless it was a dress up day at school. She was taller than I was (_but then again, so was pretty much everyone) _she had trendy, short-cut, blonde hair with the side swiped bangs; and just to top of her eccentric appearance, she had these odd green eyes that were the color of electrified green mints and they pretty much just blared off her face in some intimidating glare she always wore to ward off other students.

**"What's sup Kandy?" **She asked in the same way as she did every other usual day; with a smile and a good, perky attitude that _no normal person could have at 8:15 in the morning._

**"Why does school start so early!"** I moaned dramatically.

**"Poor Kandy,"** she pouted, drawing an invisible tear from her eye down her cheek. Tabatha always had a good, "jest full" sympathy, and I'd actually believe she was serious some of the time, if I didn't know any better. **"Perk up!" **she ushered,** "We have that "****_super-cool" field_**** trip to look forward to today!"**

Again with the sarcasm; Tabatha was very good at that.

**"Hey, I'm actually kind of excited?" **I stated proudly.

**_"Yeah, sure,_**** walking through a big, boring building, looking at all sorts of lame inventions, and sweaty, nerdy scientists-now, that's what I call, a fun time."**

**"Wait, not all scientist are nerds. What about Tony Stark?" **I corrected smugly.

**"Yeah, Tony Stark is okay ****_I guess_****, but he's a greasy-robot-billionaire, he's not a real scienti-"**

**"What about, Hank Pym, Reed Richards, Ray Palmer-uh, oh Bruce Banner!"**

**"Okay, OKAY! So, there's a handful of decent scientist, but they're all ancient, and Bruce Banner isn't even that hot! PLUS, it's not like a single one of those guys work at the science lab were going to anyway!"**

I rolled my eyes, when _thankfully (for me) _Danielle got to school, and rescued me from Tabatha's awaiting prosecution. Now, Danielle was practically as tall as a totem pole, so I had to look up to even see her talking. She was a hardcore Native American Indian, complete with the black braided pigtails, and leather headband strapped around her forehead. Although, her hair had really bright red streaks all through it and she also wore really, short, skimpy outfits_ that I don't know how she doesn't get sent home for what with our school's strict dress code._ To top her look off, she had small, dark brown eyes that insinuated her tan-brown, seemingly flawless skin; and she _always _had on this sterling silver necklace, with a small little star on it. I never knew the significance of it, perhaps it was some tribal thing to accent her last name "Moonstar". No matter what, Dani always had it on, every single day since I met her, she hasn't taken it off once.

_Danielle,_ was old enough to drive to school whenever she needed, so she got here well-whenever she wanted and _that_ was usually about five minutes before the first bell; she would always meet us at this very spot just in time to hear Tabatha tease me about something else I did that was too "goody-two-shoes" for her style. (Just for the record, Tabatha was right around the corner from being sixteen, and could drive to school too if she wanted; she had a permit and all, but with just her and her mom, and that massive apartment bill they paid, she just simply did not have a car to drive-_and Tabby was too lazy to work, save up, and earn this said: "car" by herself through conventional methods.)_

**"So, what's up?"** Dani questioned.

**"We were just talking about the trip today," **I replied un-enthusiastically.

**"Yeah, it's totally lame huh?" **she scoffed.

_Great, not Danielle too!_

**"Kandy's excited about it,"** Tabby teased.

**"Hey! It beats Trig' any day! Tell me I'm wrong!" **I argued defensively.

**"No Joke!" **Danielle agreed. We were using choppy sentences the way we always seemed to in the mornings. Something about the hour, just made us talk this way, and I just now realized it, but for some other odd reason, we still all understood everything the other was trying to say. I'm yawning just listening to us-boy was this a bore trying to make small talk so early.

Now you could time your watch by him. At this same time every day, Wallace Jones walked into the picture and put his arms around all three of us. He had us in headlocks and would tease us and make a small conversation before going about his route in the school. Wally was a Junior, a strapping young jock, friendly to everyone, but he attended the same youth class as Dani and I did, so he loved to pester us in the mornings more than anyone else.

**"What're we talking about today ladies?" **he asked with a playful smile. Wally was the oddest, most random guy I knew. He was built pretty strong due to his track and wrestling workouts, but he was nearly as short as I was, so he didn't seem too intimidating. Mostly, Wallace only hung out with his sport friends, or us during this two minute window each morning right before the bell rang. He would say some funny, flirty line and then just bolt out of our circle without so much as a blink or a breath of exit. He was impatient and could be gone in one second, practically faster than the speed of light-and no matter how hard I tried, I could never understand how he did it.

**"We were just talking about this stupid field trip," **Dani answered; meanwhile, we were unsuccessfully trying to break free of his headlock around our throats.

**"Oh yeah? ****_Ha,_**** losers, I don't have to go,"** He bragged, **"I have a wrestling deal today. Completely gets me out of that torture!" **With that, Tabatha and Danielle gruffly muttered in annoyance, but he kept on talking a mile a minute with the attention span of a three year-old, **"You're brother is going isn't he Kitty?"**

**"He's my cousin, but yeah?" **I shrugged.

**"Cousin, right! He's cool-really small-but I like his curly fro. Real Jew fro going on there,"** Wally stated randomly.

**"Um, thank you?" **I nodded confused; I wasn't sure if I should take another Jewish stereotype as a compliment or an insult. Often in the mornings, I never know where our short sentences will take us. For example, we start talking about potentially hot science-nerds and tech-labs, and then end on Sam going to wrestling matches? This was 100% normal for us.

**"Your brothers' adorable Kandy,"** Tabby added in a baby-voice.

**"Can we possibly talk about something ****_other_**** than my brother-I mean cousin-ugh! Sam! Honestly, I just got away from that kid, conversation change, please guys!" **

_RING!_

_RING!_

_RING!_

The morning bell blasted through the halls just as the mobs of students started rushing like a herd of cattle to their first hour classes_. _I used the opportunity to get the heck out of there as quickly as possible, and somehow Wallace was already two steps ahead of me like always; waving a goodbye as I covertly retreated into the rushing horde of students and vanished beneath their masses. Believe it or not, it was like this every normal day.

* * *

In homeroom, the first thing we were told, was that we had shortened classes-about thirty minutes each, and _yes_, we had to go and _do basically nothing_ until the buses got here and prepped for this "big trip." They were putting way too much stress on this, and okay, I know it must not have been an easy place to book, but seriously, the school just needed to cool it with science lab drama! In the meantime, I could handle half an hour of Music, no problem. My music teacher, simply had us singing _"Row, Row your Boat"_ backwards and forwards all hour long. I'm an Alto II, which is the lowest octave a _GIRL _could sing, meaning I don't have to sing it high enough notes to crack glass like the Sopranos did, which was _just the way I liked it._ I barely sang at all, and more or less just mouthed the words because I hated to sing, yet I was being forced to take an elective class involving other people and public humiliation.

There was a girl in my music class, Jane Cross, who was singing First Soprano and she was drowning over the entire class like she pretty much always does. Jane was one of those "beautiful, popular girls" I was talking about earlier; she was flawless and had that _look_ that drove all the guys in school wild. Her hair was a perfect wave of gold silk, and her eyes were a dark, emerald green. Unlike her friends, she was always friendly and was actually a pretty sweet girl who didn't like to get swept up in the normal drama of her peers. Jane always-and I mean ALWAYS smiled; she was the nicest girl I'd ever met in my life, and she could sing like an angel to top it all off.

For reasons unbenounced to me, Tabatha often called her "Little Miss Perfect," and that's honestly what she was; Jane is an absolute saint! Don't get me wrong though, I never picked on her like Tabby does; I just think that so much good in one person just nauseates Tabatha for some strange reason, so she doesn't like Jane all that much? But, back to the main point, Jane _was_ a very good singer, and always managed to be heard in class, no matter how loud the rest of us were singing. Boy, I wish I could sing half as well as she could, but no such luck; I have far too much _stage-fright_ to even try if I'd wanted to. So naturally, I sang so softly that I barely heard myself, and the rest of us listened to Jane's angelic singing for the whole ten minutes that was left of class.

* * *

Later, in Trigonometry, things were pretty dull, and my half coach/ half teacher was one of those cool sorts of guys, who would let you talk all hour when nothing productive was going on. My class was filled with either super-popular kids, or mega-outcast-nerds, so I talked to whoever decided to address me first. I was more cool than I was an outcast, but because I liked to stay under the radar, I think most of the class forgot I was even there to begin with.

Now, the definition of a cool guy, was this boy in my class named Thei Nguyen. He was super, un-naturally smart, extremely cool, and not that bad looking _considering _his muscles and roguish, Asian man attitude. I sat right beside him, and got to hear him brag about how much better his life was than the rest of ours'. I heard about how his parents bought him that cool black corvette for his first car, or how he took a vacation to Venice for Christmas Break once... Though Thei was definitely the coolest kid in my school (that _didn't_ have an athletic background) he had the modesty gland of a rabbit in a turtle race, and he never knew when to shut up! The only people in Trig who didn't seem interested in anything Thei had to showboat about, was me (of course) and then this other boy named Peter, who sat right in front of me in class, and never even acknowledges my existence.

Peter and Thei were supposedly really good friends, due to the fact Pete was an exchange student and lived in Thei's huge house. I guess that's why Peter never really listened to any of Thei's stories, maybe he'd already heard them a thousand times before at home? I'll bet Peter might even have lived some of Thei's million dollar tales; no wonder he hardly paid his buddy any mind in class. Still, I could only bear so much of the wonderful world of Thei, and eventually started doodling pictures of his family's yacht getting stranded on a little stick-person island. I'm sure if that ever really happened though, Thei could find a way to make being shipwrecked irresistible to anyone who brushes against the pencil-drawn sand...

* * *

Literature class, and of course the teacher gave us work. She always overwhelmed us with writing and grammar related assignments, but when we quit complaining for twelve seconds and just did the work, we actually, miraculously got it done! Tabatha was in my third hour, and she was like the Einstein of English, so typically, she got everything done in ten minutes flat, and then went back to her usual rebellious self. It was too bad I _sucked_ at this stuff-I hardly got done before the bell rang. At least my teacher doesn't look through my journal though, I bet she would have a cow at all of my mistakes!

* * *

By the time our last and fourth hour came, we were all pretty pumped for that field trip. Tabby and I had Basketball, so we walked there together after English. _Needless to say,_ we didn't actually play, but we were the managers of the Varsity Boys' team. TOTALLY TABATHA'S IDEA! We knew all the guys by name and number, and they knew us by the special nicknames we had gotten there at the beginning of the year. You see, the day we told them our names, they had thought I'd said _"Candy"_ instead of my nickname, _"Kitty"._ I'm not sure how, but our graves were dug then and there because now the guys called us _Kandy and Tabby-Cat, though w_e don't really mind all too much? Tabatha seems to like the whole Kandy thing much more than I do, strangely, thus she always calls me by the nickname.

When we finally got to the gym, Coach said to just sit on the court or something until it was time to go. He really didn't feel like a twelve minute practice, when it took the boys twenty-minutes to do their hair and _make-up,_ and get dressed in their practice gear! Kindly, I held the big door to the locker room open for the guys to leave _like I always did,_ and they all stormed out of the locker room, all except for one boy Coach held back that I couldn't quite see from around the corner wall, though I could hear him ferociously chewing the boy out for not playing his hardest in our last game; this sort of action was strange to me because Coach never did yell at the guys the week after the fact, never once, and heck, he hardly scolded them at all unless it was on the court to their faces.

_With that swarm of anger echoing out the two-ton door,_ I turned and bolted to catch up with Tabatha, but about half way down the court, I'd realized my purse and books were all still in the locker room, (thanks to the fact that Tabby wouldn't let me stop at my stupid locker before practice). I gave her the one-minute gesture, as she tapped her foot impatiently for me to hurry up. I rushed quickly back to the room to gather my junk, hoping coach wouldn't notice me sneaking in during his rant, and as I reached for the heavy door handle, I caught a quick glimpse of red and-

***BAM***

* * *

It comes as no surprise to me that my danger-prone nature caused the heavy metal locker room door to swing right into my face just as I was about to open it. I heard the vicious THUD of me falling to the floor, alongside a couple of voices talking indistinctly, though everything gradually went black for a really, _really_ long time. I was knocked out cold for _who knows how long, _but after a while, the color came back to me, and I noticed a blurry Coach David, Assistant Coach Hatch, one terrified Tabby, and then one of the players, Peter Rasputin, all kneeling around me; the rest of the guys were standing above them, looking down at me _with a fear-struck look_ as well. How all of them got back here so fast was strange, but I'm sure that loud clank between the bone in my head and the swinging 40 mph door would have attracted some attention echoing throughout an empty gymnasium.

**"KANDY!?" **Tabatha bellowed repeatedly, and by the sound of her worried tone, she was making it sound like I'd just gotten shot by Willy Wonka or something?

******_"Bozhe Moi!_**** Katya, are you alright?"** Peter asked, concerned as if I were going to sue him or something? I guess he must have been the one who slammed the door open then? Peter is the foreign exchange boy from my second hour who doesn't know I'm alive, yet in basketball, instead of calling me Kandy like the rest of the guys, h_e calls me Katya—kind of a lot actually, so I think that it's Russian for Katherine maybe? _Peter is originally from all the way in Siberia, Russia, and just got here in New York about two years ago, I think-maybe about a year and a half before I came to the "Big Apple" anyway? His English was great for a new kid, but the accent was still pretty thick, and a few Russian words still managed to spill their way out, especially when he was upset, and right now, he was frantic!

Through the complete enigma of awkwardness I found myself tangled in, I grumbled the pain in my body away, and replied _somewhat _painfully, **"Yeah...it was just a two ton door to the face-I'm good-I'm alright." ** I lay on the cold, dirty floor, unable to move, and couldn't help but chuckle at my situation.

Eventually, they helped me up, and that's when I noticed everything growing little dizzy; like the floors had tilted sideways under my feet, but the rest of the team acted as though it didn't happen.

**"Do you need to go to the nurse Katherine?" **Coach Hatch asked me imperatively.

**"You can go home if you need to, kid?"** Coach David added slowly.

_Well, Crap_ this was embarrassing! I mean, other than the fact that they all think I'm dying on the floor, when in retrospect, I can't really feel a thing, other than my head aching a little… It's humiliating!

**"It was just a door!" **I argued, my voice rising in anguish.

**"Yeah, a door that has your head dented into it!" **Tabatha thundered. _ Honestly,_ I didn't know whether or not she was exaggerating, so I looked. Low and behold, my hard head had cracked a dent into the steel rectangle door, and I felt my legs go numb as someone _luckily_ caught me before I lost the ability to stand. I chuckled weakly, **"Um, I think I'll go to the nurse now?"**

**"I will take her," **Peter offered guiltily, and with that, Tabby and Peter escorted me to the nurse's office; Peter, carrying me six feet off of the ground while I was in some drunken, half-dead state. He was _like_ seven feet tall, and me _being five foot two only_ ever reached up to about his lower-chest. _Also,_ I should probably mention that I _hated_ heights and was up kind of high, so I literally felt insulting squeezing against his neck, fearing that he would drop all one-hundred and ten pounds of me with his massive football-basketball player muscles. How humiliating...

* * *

Evidently, the only thing the school nurse could provide for me was a band aid for the small cut on my forehead and a good estimate, that I did not have a concussion. She said I could even go on the field trip if I still wanted to-that of course being the important thing here, not the fact that I nearly died... Never did anyone ask if I maybe wanted to call my mom or possibly a lawyer to discuss the low class healing that a school nurse can provide? It was soon after I got to the office, that I regained the consciousness of my legs, and could stand well on my own without the aid of Peter or Tabatha. The final bell rang, Tabatha and I were about go to her locker to meet up with Danielle, seeing as there was nothing the vaguely concerned nurse could do for me now.

Before we left, Peter apologized to me time after time for almost cracking my skull in half, and i_t was almost sweet how much he seemed to care._** "I am so sorry Katya!"** He said again,** "I cannot stress my apology any more so than this-You are alright now, yes?"**

**"Yeah, you'd better be sorry ya big ox! You could've freaking killed her!" **Tabby interrupted. For some odd reason, she was _WAY_ more upset about all of this, than I was, and _I _was the one on the stretcher here? I looked over from her furious daggered eyes, and into Peter's concerned, pale frown. He was beating himself up about this, but it was just an accident, no big deal, right? So badly, all I wanted was for this whole thing to just get buried alive and never resurface again! Maybe then Tabatha and Pete would forget it?

So, with the need to say something to break the nerving tension, we all walked through the office door, and I shrugged to Peter, smiling, **"Don't worry about it-I'm tough, I'll get over it?"** I kept saying that, feeling a little stupid afterwards from repeating the words, _"I'm tough"_, but it's too late to take it back now. _Oh, well..._

* * *

Before I knew it, Tabby and I were sitting on the bus, and Peter was nowhere to be found. This was all great, except for the soul fact that Tabby wouldn't shut up about him-and it was kind of making it hard to forget that I had a headache. On the bus, Dani and about a dozen other people asked me what happened to my face. Of course, I didn't specify on any names, but Tabatha sure did. I was trying to keep it a secret that Peter had clobbered me, but my anxious friend was furious, and over hastily told them _ALL _the story. Never before had a bus been so quiet, then when she had started talking...

**"It's not that big a deal!" **I tried to explain, but, no one listened, they were too tangled into Tabatha's exaggerated tales of the mighty, Soviet beast that likes to snap tiny girls in half with just a glance. Great! Now Peter's reputation is toast because of me-well, technically because of Tabatha, but it's kind of my fault anyway? One of the other basketball players on our bus, a claimed witness to the incident, he said that Peter was mad at coach for yelling at him, and practically kicked the door down. Rumors amongst rumors were spread, and I sighed hopelessly, looking out the window to escape this discussion. It never ended though, not even after we left the bus, and that is when things started to take a turn for the weird.

When we finally got to the science lab, we were put into random buddy-groups-really scattered groups actually, there was no order in the system whatsoever? I was told that mine was to be led by a scientist named Professor Todd Barkley, and so far the group consisted of: Tabatha; Jane Cross; Thei Nguyen; Warren Worthington _(a rich, down to earth, Senior boy, who we all called Shane_); Peter Rasputin; and then me. Now, these_ were all people I knew, but I wasn't really close friends with any of them besides Tabatha. _It was a random group, considering we weren't in the same class, age range, GPA-we weren't even in the same grade! Whatever happened to alphabetical order?

**"Good afternoon, my name is Professor Todd Xavier Barkley, and I'm the lucky fellow who gets to show you all of the dangerous chemistry experiments made by the dorks who work here 24/7,"** Professor Barkley greeted us kindly. We all did that half-laugh that kids do to break the ice with those "try-to-be" funny adults. Then with a wave of his hand, Professor Barkley started to lead us through the labs.

While walking, Tabatha reached over to me and whispered under her breath, **"Okay, so maybe they're not all nerds..."**

That was sure true. Professor Barkley was a handsome man who was maybe only in his early thirties, and by the look of him, he could be a model instead of a scientist! Todd was pale, but strong and defined; he had clean, light blonde hair, and really bright blue eyes, _the color of ice;_ he was tall, just a little shorter than Peter, but tall nevertheless; and best of all, he seemed really nice, polite, and smart! It was a pleasant surprise considering how lousy my day had been going so far. I guess that I figured we'd get a sweaty, bald guy who smelled like B.O. and had a shutter personality?

**"This is the genetics lab, where I spend most of ****_my own_**** time,"** he said with a strong voice that broke the silence, **"As you can see, the scientists here are working with all sorts of varied forms of DNA. In time, we hope to cure cancer and many other diseases that could possibly be transferred genetically, rather than infectiously through our fragile and unpredictable human immune systems."**

Wow, not even Tabby minded learning from the tone of Todd Barkley. He seemed so smart, that we all absorbed everything he said like sponges, and even then, we were still intrigued by all he had to say. We walked through our tour rather quickly, Todd telling us about each new room, and what the scientists were doing. To my relief, Tabatha and Peter didn't say a word to each other the entire time; and other than the occasional question from Shane or Thei, there was no talking that wasn't from the calming, low voice of Professor Barkley.

* * *

A few hours of touring flew by, and the next room we walked into struck me with an odd vibe that completely drowned out Todd's melty, warm voice. It was a long aisle, scientists working on each side; it kind of reminded me of the Death Star helm where Darth Vader would go and kill a few commanding officers, except-a little less Star Wars. We were walking through the aisle to the next room, when the metal doors slid shut both behind and in front of us, and Todd seemed taken back as his access card buzzed in denial whenever he tried to swipe it through the keyhole. If my nerves weren't high already, I got a tingling feeling crawling across my neck as we started shuffling around in our group.

One of the scientists wearing one of those hazard-proof, full-body suits dropped a green fizzing beaker right as he walked in front of our tour. As it crashed, shards of broken glass filled the entire room along with a weird bluish-green smoke that was stealing away all of the fresh air. By now, a load of loud, red buzzers rang off, nearly making all of our mixed wheezing and coughing inaudible. Things all happened so fast, and within seconds all of the clear air had become this thick, swampy fog; ultimately in the chaos, I was separated from Barkley and my group.

Distantly, I heard Professor Barkley order, before coughing violently from the rotten fumes, **"Cover your mouth and nose!" **

It was too late… I had already breathed in the foul smell, and on top of that, I felt a sharp stinging pain in my leg that I couldn't limp away from. I looked down, through the thick fog of gas, seeing my tattered jeans leg soaking in an odd dark-red liquid. There was a pointy shard of beaker glass wedged in my leg, I think. My skin there was numb and warm, but I barely gave it a thought until my eyes went wide at the sight of all the blood soaking a small puddle on the floor. I could no longer attempt to hold my breath; gasping for air now, I choked in even more of the rancid fumes, and with all of my "bad-to-worse" luck, they were probably deadly.

I couldn't help but to keep panicking and tried to run, trying to breath in a little air through my anxiety-filled panting, though it felt like I was suffocating in the dark clouds of poison everywhere I turned. The scientists all had put gas masks on, and none of them were helping us. Soon, all seven of the people in my group eventually fell to the ground from lack of breath, including our _tour-guide, Professor Barkley_. By the time crawling was no longer an option, I reached out for someone, thinking we were going to die and looking for a little comfort. The fear was too great for me not to be crying around this time, as all the nerves in my body started slowly shutting down beyond my control. My legs went dead first, followed by the mid-section of my body, the arms, fingers, and finally my neck and mouth. The previous fifteen years of my life couldn't even flash before my eyes because I was too afraid to remember it.

Then my frozen white hand was finally answered by another, more violent grip. Peering through the fog, I recognized it as one of the hazard suit scientists and felt an instant of relief, before my eyes flashed over and saw two more of them, their silhouettes knocking out (what looked like) Thei and Jane with these blunt, heavy tools that I couldn't make out through the corner of my eye, yet by their equally pain filled groans, it told me that they were both knocked out cold and hard. Looking back up at the man who was now sinking his nails into my wrists, was only an effort that was answered by a quick glimpse of myself getting hit in the face with something hard and silver that hurt worse than the Locker Room door. That was all I could remember of my "_supposed-to-be"_ normal day of school, before everything went black.


End file.
